Lost
by genies9
Summary: When they found her, she was nearly dead and had no memory. Now it will take the love of one man to bring her backand to uncover the painful memories she has buried.. Epilogue now up FINISHED!
1. Prologue

A/N: Some variation of this has been running through my head for awhile now… Meh. We'll see how it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mediator. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME!

Prologue

"Good morning, Miss Simon," the doctor said, coming into the hospital room. He smiled warmly at her. "How are you feeling this morning?"

She just turned her vacant gaze on him from her seat near the window. She hadn't spoken a word to anyone since she'd arrived there, three weeks ago. The doctor couldn't really blame her—when the police had found her, she'd been half-dead. She flinched every time anyone made a move too quickly toward her, as if she were afraid they meant to hurt her. But she still responded obediently to anything anyone asked her to do. Get plenty of rest? Sometimes they could hardly wake her up in the morning after such an order. Eat everything on her plate? She did it without question, no matter what it happened to be.

She wasn't anything like how her family and friends described her as once being. She had disappeared, months ago, without a trace, and when she was finally found, she had not even been able give her name.

The doctor knelt in front of her so that their eyes were level. He said softly, "I'm just going to make sure everything's going all right." He lifted his stethoscope to press it against her chest. She jumped back at the contact. "Shh, it's all right. Hold still for just a minute." She held still obediently, and did as he asked as he gave her a short check up.

A few minutes later, he stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. "There, all done."

As usual, she didn't respond. She just turned back to gaze unseeingly out the window.

"Any change?" Trish, one of the nurses sitting at the desk outside the room, asked as the doctor closed the door behind him.

"No," he answered hollowly, his projected calm fading now that Susannah couldn't hear him. "She's still the same."

Trish gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sure something will happen soon." She reached out and touched his arm. "After what she must have been through, you can't blame her for being like this at the beginning." At his nod, she leaned back in her chair. "Does she realize who you are yet?"

Jesse turned to look back at Susannah through the small window in the door. "No. I don't think she even realizes who she is yet."

* * *

A/N: O.o yeah. It's short. Hopefully I can get more out of it soon… 


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Why I love not having to school till two hours later than usual sometimes: More time to write. :-P Anyway, for the record: The chapters are going to be split up into two parts; past and present. i.e. The first half of the chapter deals with what happened to Suze—what she went through, how she ended up that way, basically everything she can't currently verbalize to Jesse. The second is, like I said, the present, with Suze in the hospital and Jesse trying to bring her out of her… whatever you want to call how she was in the Prologue. (I don't have a decent word for it. Lol)

It gets violent in places (hence why the story's rated T). It deals with what is apparently my favorite thing to write about in Mediator fanfiction (XD If you've read some of my other stories, you will recognize it when it shows up.) It's not an entirely happy story… but it ends well, and it's got a bit of romance going on, though even I'm not sure if it's strictly S/J, and I'm the one writing it. O.o And it feels really wrong, because I have a thing about canon pairings… hehe. Ah, well. Hopefully y'all will like it, despite my misgivings.

And to add more to this ridiculously long Author's Note: To answer a question from my reviews—my favorite bean is actually a chocolate covered coffee bean, because everything is better with chocolate (and probably cheese, too, though I've yet to be brave enough to attempt to try out that theory.) Yes, I know, that question was a joke, but I can't answer the rest without giving anything away.

And I'll make it easy on y'all and actually mark "Past" and "Present." See? I'm being nice. Don't get used to it, I'm looking forward to cliffhangers. And I'm not really being that nice, because I switch between first and third person. Constantly. Though, if Suze is narrating, it's first ('cause I just can't write Suze in third… lol) and anyone else is in third. Confused? Yeah, I figured as much.

Chapter 1

**Past:**

_1 year ago…_

He was going to break up with me.

He didn't actually tell me that when he called to ask me to come over for dinner that night, of course. Knowing Jesse, he'd want to do it as gently as possible—I mean, we'd been together for all of four years now, I could hardly expect him to just break it off over the phone or something.

How did I know he was going to break up with me? He'd been avoiding me for awhile now. At first, I didn't think it was that strange. I mean, he's finally getting through his last year of medical school, so he has a lot of studying to do, and then there's his job at the Historical Society which allows him to pay for medical school…

But before he'd always been able to fit time in for me. Even if it was only for an hour during the day when neither of us happened to have a class, and all we really had time to do was sit and talk or grab some coffee, at least it was _something_, and at least we were together.

But that had changed recently. When I called him to see if he wanted to do something that night—or that weekend—he was always busy, studying or working (or sometimes both.) The last time I'd seen him in person before he called me to ask me to dinner was one day when I went to visit Father Dominic and he happened to be just on his way out.

CeeCee tries to tell me that I'm just jumping to conclusions, that there's no way Jesse would want to break up with me. "He's probably just got a lot of stuff on his plate right now. He's probably trying to save up as much money he can for once he finishes med school."

She was probably right, at least in part. But I still couldn't let go of my doubts, and the more time that went by, the more I started to wonder if maybe Jesse wasn't as enthused about our relationship as I'd thought.

I didn't think he was cheating on me or anything. I trusted Jesse way too much to think that. But what if he'd decided that it wasn't working out? What if he decided he didn't feel the same way about me anymore?

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection resolutely. I wouldn't cry when he told me, I informed myself. I'd be mature about it, and try to understand his side of things, and not try to con him into staying when he didn't want to—just like Father Dom used to always tell me when Jesse was still a ghost.

That lasted about as long as the car ride from my apartment to Jesse's. All the way there, all I could think about was everything that we'd gone through—from when we first met, to when he'd come back to life, to all the memories we'd made in the years since then—and the tears just started coming. By the time I pulled into the parking lot of Jesse's apartment complex, I could hardly see through my tears. I'm not even sure how I got there without getting into an accident, that's how bad it was.

I sat out there, crying in my car, not ready to face Jesse. Maybe if I never showed up, I thought numbly, he wouldn't have the chance to break up with me.

That idea, of course, didn't last long, because as I was sitting there thinking that—a good half hour after I was supposed to show up—my cell phone rang.

"Susannah?" came Jesse's worried voice. "Is everything all right?"

I tried to calm myself down enough to answer. I took several deep breaths before answering, "Jesse, I'm really sorry. I'll be there in a couple minutes, okay?"

There was a pause. "Are you all right, querida?"

Something tightened in my chest at the mention of that word. _Oh, God._ "Fine. Everything's fine. I'll be up in a couple minutes."

After I hung up, I went to work trying to fix my makeup—thank God for waterproof mascara—and making myself look as normal as possible.

When I finally got up to Jesse's apartment, he swung open the door, looking worried. I tried to smile, but I don't think it really came out right.

"I'm really sorry for being so late," I said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "Did I totally ruin dinner?"

Yeah, Jesse learned how to cook. Andy taught him a little—though, he still hadn't managed to master more than spaghetti and meatballs.

"No, it's fine," Jesse said, furrowing his brow. "I meant to talk to you about something before dinner, but…"

I didn't really let him finish his sentence. I didn't want to know just then what he'd wanted to talk to me about.

We got through the salad—which I had to help with; Jesse can apparently boil pasta, but he can't toss a salad, for some reason. Men—and halfway through the spaghetti before Jesse cleared his throat and said, "Susannah…"

I nearly dropped my fork. Oh, God. This was where it was coming. I cut him off before he could even begin; "Jesse, look, I know why you've been working so hard lately."

Jesse blinked at me, looking surprised. "You do?"

I nodded. "Yeah. And look, I know that things can't always be great—"

Jesse continued to stare at me. "Susannah…"

"—But really, you know, all couples probably go through that, and nothing bad happens with _them_—"

Jesse started to smile a little. Why was he smiling? Couldn't he see how much this was killing me? "Susannah…"

"—I mean, if you just _think_ about it for a minute, I'm sure you'll—"

"Susannah!" Jesse reached his hand across the table, but I was too preoccupied to pay any attention to it. His arm, I mean.

"What?" I croaked. That's when I happened to look down at his outstretched hand—or, more importantly, what was _in_ it. A tiny little velvet box with a… "Oh, my God."

Jesse smiled at me and reached into the box to pull out the ring that sitting in it. "Susannah, will you marry me?"

* * *

A/N: You know, the last time I had them get married, I had Suze propose… I must be getting more old-fashioned with age… -is only 17-

* * *

**Present: **

"Jesse," a voice broke through his revelry. "Jesse." A hand shook his shoulder. "Yo, Jesse!"

Jesse blinked, finally focusing in on the face of the person who had just interrupted his thoughts—Joe, his best friend and fellow doctor.

Joe shook his head at him. "Sitting by her bedside all night long and losing sleep isn't going to help anyone, my friend." Joe shot a glance at Susannah's sleeping form in the hospital bed. "It's after midnight, you should head home."

"I'm not tired," Jesse protested, shaking his head, not taking his gaze off of Susannah.

Joe made a derisive sound. "Please. You've barely gotten any sleep at all over the past few weeks. You'll be dead on your feet tomorrow if you don't go home now." He helped Jesse out of his chair. "Come on, she'll still be here when you get back—in an hour or two, however long I can con you into staying away for."

Jesse didn't crack a smile—he rarely found reason to these days. Not while Susannah was laying there, trapped somewhere in her thoughts and memories where he couldn't get to her. "She should be at home," he said quietly.

"Could you take care of her there?"

"I could do a better job of taking care of her at home than I could in the Psychiatric Ward," Jesse muttered. He glanced at Joe. "She doesn't need a psychiatrist—she needs her husband."

Joe couldn't really argue with him on that front; he rather agreed with him. He shrugged. "Take it up with the shrink—what's his name? Dr. Davis?" At Jesse's nod, he continued, "Talk to him about it. He'll let her go if you're convincing enough." Joe glanced down at Susannah again. "There's nothing physically wrong with her now, at least."

Jesse didn't respond, though Joe didn't really expect him to. He tried to sound lighthearted as he said, "Hey, come on, let's get out of here." When Jesse still didn't move, he added, "Come on, man, you owe me, remember?"

"How?"

"Remember that time in BioChemistry when you were so spaced out from lack of sleep that you nearly fell over in the middle of an experiment? If it weren't for me, you would've landed face first in the Bunsen burner." He patted his shoulder. "Come on, do me a favor and go home and get some rest, all right?" He grinned. "Just imagine what sorts of things you might end up falling face first in this time."

Jesse finally laughed. "All right, all right. I'll go home. I suppose Trish or someone will call me if anything happens."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Trish left a half hour ago. She tried coming in here to get you then, but you were so out of it she couldn't get a response from you."

Smiling a little now, Jesse shrugged. Before he and Joe left, he went to the bed and leaned down to kiss Susannah's forehead. "I'll be back in the morning, querida," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him. He reluctantly drew away and left her sleeping there, in the hospital bed.

A/N: Meh. Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Ah, well. It's long, and it helps to lead into the rest of it, I guess.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: I need to remember to change my e-mail so I can get the reviews without having to wait for the site to let 'em show up… Quite annoying to sit there looking at it saying I have 20 reviews, but it only shows me 19 of them. XD lol Hmph.

Anyway. I need to figure out how I'm going to pace all this. To be honest, there's a lot more to cover in the Past than there is in the Present. The present's more there to bring up questions that are answered in later chapters by the past. O.o Like there's some seemingly random things in the Present that freak Suze out, but I can't fully get to till toward the end… So, blah. I might have to eventually write entirely about the past for a few chapters to play catch up. Minimal Dr. Jesse time? I don't how I'll handle that… Ah, the things I do for my art…

I'm kidding. I swear. And this chapter takes place a few months after the first one (at least the Past part does. I.e., it's after Suze and Jesse get married.) And I enjoy Joe and the Bunsen burner thing. He's more or less a tribute to Joe in Susan B's "Dead Man Walking" because… well, he just rocked, and when I think of Jesse having a slightly odd best friend… the name Joe comes to mind. Lol. They're different, of course, but he was inspired. :-P

…And I just had to make a certain character icky. :-P Blah. He just makes such a good icky dude, though… Why bother thinking up another one?

Chapter 2

**Past:**

"You know, for a newlywed, you spend an awful lot of time away from your wife."

Jesse glanced up from the book he was reading to look at Joe. "I'm studying. Susannah understands how important this is." They were sitting in the university's library, medical books sprawled out across the table Jesse had claimed when he arrived a couple hours before. Their final exams were only two weeks away, and Jesse was taking every possible opportunity to prepare for it. "Besides," he added, leaning over his book to hide his sheepish grin, "I haven't heard much complaining."

Joe snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm sure that's what a lot of married men say." There was a slight pause. "You know what happened to poor Professor Duffy, don't you?"

Jesse didn't bother to respond. He knew Joe wouldn't need any encouragement.

He was right. "He spent so much time teaching and researching, and staying away from his wife that she went off and had a torrid affair with one of bagger guys down at the Safeway."

"Torrid?"

"Yes, torrid. Those are Belinda's words, by the way, not mine," Joe said a little defensively.

Jesse smiled. "I wouldn't take your girlfriend's word on everything, Joe." He finally glanced up from his book. "Professor Duffy is an unmarried man, living with his ninety-year old mother."

Joe frowned for a minute. "I thought she looked kind of old…"

Shaking his head, Jesse turned back to his book. "Shouldn't you be studying, too?"

"Hmph. Nah. I know you'll come over and help me cram the night before." Jesse knew without bothering to look that Joe was grinning at him. "You _do _owe me, you know."

Here we go, Jesse thought. "How do I owe you?" Then, he and Joe said at the same time: "The BioChemistry experiment."

"Fine, fine. Mock me all you want. You save a man's life, and this is the thanks you get?" Sighing, Joe stood up. "I'll leave you to it. Just remember: Bunsen burners, man. Bunsen burners." Then he sauntered off.

Jesse just shook his head. Sometimes he wondered about Joe.

Some time later, Jesse checked his watch and realized how late it was getting—he'd promised Susannah that he'd be home at reasonable hour. He started to clear the books and papers he had on the table when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"Jesse."

Turning Jesse gazed back at him, frowning. "Paul."

Despite what Susannah tended to claim, Jesse had never managed to learn to trust Paul Slater. (A/N: Ironically, right as I was writing this, Review #20 came through, asking if Paul was coming. I thought that was funny timing.) He still managed to make him feel uneasy, at least when it came to Susannah.

Paul grinned at him. "How's Suze doing? Haven't gotten to see her much since you two finally tied the knot."

Jesse turned his back to him, gathering his things. "I don't think that is any of you business." He was being rude, he knew that. But he really didn't want to deal with Paul. Ever.

Paul walked around so that he was facing Jesse. "I'm sorry you think so, because I intend to make it by business." He took something out of his coat pocket that Jesse couldn't see. "Very soon."

Jesse stared at him, narrowing his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Paul grinned, pocketing whatever he was holding. "You'll see." Then he turned and left before Jesse could say a word.

* * *

**Present:**

"Well, Jesse," Dr. Davis said the next morning as Jesse sat in his office, "you make a valid point." He took off his glasses to wipe them on his white lab coat. "I will certainly have to think it over."

Jesse stood and shook his hand. "Thank you, you don't know how much this means to me."

Dr. Davis smiled slightly. "After watching you with her, I think I can get a fairly good idea."

Jesse left Dr. Davis's office, feeling a little more optimistic than when he'd walked in. He went straight toward Susannah's room, like he did every morning. And like every morning since the night he'd discovered her gone, Jesse was plagued by the memories of the days before it had all happened.

What if he had realized sooner what would happen? Could he have saved Susannah from this whole mess by just saying something to her, or to anyone else, for that matter?

Was he really just as bad for what _he'd_ done?

No, he told himself. He'd stepped over the line once—and had felt so guilty for it in the process that he had sworn never to do it again—not that he had had much opportunity. But what he had done hadn't been meant to hurt her—he hadn't even realized what happened until it was over with, when she'd looked up at him, for an instant with that same vacant gaze that seemed to be so permanent now.

Jesse stopped in front of her door, his hand perched on the handle. He gazed at her through the small window. No, what was happening to Susannah right now hadn't come from one split second accident; it was the product something deliberate and constant.

He gazed down at his hand. He would never try to hurt her. The very idea made his stomach roll. That was the difference between the two. Jesse would avoid at all costs to do something to hurt her, and would take the guilt to his grave if he ever did; _he_ on the other hand, wouldn't care, as long as he had what he wanted. That was the difference. Maybe that was all that really mattered.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, Jesse's got a little bit of a guilty conscience. Comparatively, what he did is nothing. He thinks it is, 'cause he's Jesse, and that's just the way his brain works.

And before anyone gets confused and asks me: No. Jesse is not the one who did all that to Suze. I don't think he's got it in him to hit a girl, anyway, no matter what crazy things people come up with in fanfiction.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Bah. Sorry about the wait. I've been busy, lately, with school and college applications. That and I just want to skip this chapter and get to the rest. Sooo… I'm doing just that and writing only this chapter in the present. :-P Because I'm lazy, and y'all need something to read, at least…

Chapter 3

**Present:**

It was a few days later, as Jesse was making his way toward Susannah's room, when it happened. Little had changed, except maybe that Dr. Davis was getting closer to making a decision.

It was as he was nearing the room that he heard her screaming.

"Susannah!" Jesse burst into the room, his eyes darting around the room, searching for what was going on.

Susannah was sitting on her bed, huddled against the head board, screaming with tears running down her cheeks and staring at… nothing.

_There was nothing there._

Jesse stood frozen for a moment. _Nombre de Dios._ "Querida," he whispered. He moved toward her, instinctively trying to put his arms around her, to comfort her.

She jumped at his touch turning on him. Before Jesse could react, she was scratching at him franticly, presumably trying to get away.

"Susannah!" Jesse dodged her, grabbing her arms and pinning them down. "Susannah, it's all right," he shushed her, loosening his grip a little so that he wouldn't hurt her. "Everything's okay." He freed one of his hands to brush aside a strand of hair from her face. "No one's going to hurt you."

Everything after that was a blur. Nurses rushed into the room, gently pulling Jesse away from her. Jesse was vaguely aware of someone saying something to him—Joe maybe?—but he wasn't paying attention. He just watched Susannah as other people circled around her, trying to calm her. Someone gave her a shot to calm her down, and soon she was huddled on the bed, looking so small and frail, Jesse didn't know how to help her.

"Jesse."

He turned to look over his shoulder. Dr. Davis walked into the room, standing near Susannah's bed, across from Jesse. He looked down at Susannah sympathetically. "Jesse… about your request."

Jesse straightened. "What about my request?"

Dr. Davis sighed. "I don't think it would be a good idea for her to go home yet. In fact…" he cleared his throat, his eyes darting down to Susannah. She didn't seem to really be aware of anything that was happening. She just gazed blankly up at them. "I know of some perfectly respectable institutions that might be of better help…"

Jesse felt color rushing to his cheeks as he realized what Dr Davis was talking about. "No. I want to take her home."

Sighing, Dr. Davis turned to leave the room. "I will give you more time to think about this. Now probably isn't the best time to make a decision."

Jesse sat in the chair next to the bed, his head in his hands. What was he going to do?

Suddenly he heard a rustle from the bed. Jesse lifted his head to see Susannah laying near the edge of the bed, gazing up at him.

"Querida," he said softly, longing to reach out and touch her. He held back, knowing better than to try. He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. Susannah—at least, the Susannah he had known and fallen in love with—was gone. He had to remember that. Jesse opened his eyes to meet her gaze. That didn't mean he couldn't try to save the Susannah that was left.

No matter what anyone else said.

A/N: I don't like it. But it's the best I got at the moment. :-/


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Let it be known: I don't like this chapter. I haven't even written yet (at the time when I was writing this A/N, anyway) and I don't like it. Lol. I can't help it. I'm just getting this chapter over with. XD Sorry. And might be long to boot. And while writing part of this chapter Garth Brooks' "The Thunder Rolls" was playing. Hehe, seems almost fitting, sort of. Well, it did at the time it was playing, anyway.

Chapter 4

**Past:**

The closer the exams came, the more time Jesse had to spend in the library, swamped with books and notes. If he wasn't in class or work, he was in the library. He felt a little guilty, being away from Susannah so much, but he didn't have much of a choice. He assured himself that there would be more time to spend together after it was all over.

If he didn't pass out from exhaustion before than, of course.

While he was studying, he was worrying. About Paul, mostly. Jesse had learned long ago that, where Paul was concerned, it was best to be weary. And on this night, Paul seemed hell-bent on proving him right.

"Hello, Jesse," Paul drawled, as he slid into the seat across from him.

Jesse tried to ignore him. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he reasoned, Paul would go away. Luck, apparently, was not with him. Finally, he sighed. "What do you want, Paul?"

Paul grinned. "I wanted to show you something I thought you might find interesting." He leaned down and reached into the bag he'd dropped next to his chair. When he straightened, he was holding something red in his hand. When Jesse leaned closer, he realized it was a crystal—and glowing faintly.

"What is _that?_"

Paul gave it a little toss in his palm. "You know, Jesse, there are some very unusual things that we—shifters, I mean—can do, that other people might think in possible." He smiled. "I think you're familiar with most of them. But given the right tools…" he tossed the crystal again. "We could even try our hand at mind control." He tilted his head to the side, looking almost innocent—a façade, of course. "Think Suze might be interested in that."

Jesse felt something tighten in his gut. "That's not possible."

Paul shrugged. "Maybe not. Worth a shot, though, don't you think? To see if it works?"

Jesse didn't respond. He didn't know want to know what sorts of things went through Paul Slater's head. Nonetheless, his eyes kept going back to Paul's bag, where he had deposited the crystal.

Later, Jesse would wonder if he would have still done the same thing if he had known what would happen afterward—the way it would ruin his and Susannah's life, and Paul's, too, though no one could possibly foresee that then.

He couldn't have known any of that then. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have taken the crystal from Paul's bag while Paul was looking for a book, and put it in his own pocket, just to be safe. Maybe.

* * *

A/N: You know, that didn't seem believable to me, at all. Gah. Sorry. Told you I hate this chapter, didn't I?

* * *

Jesse couldn't remember when he thought about it later what exactly they were arguing about the night that it happened. It might have been the normal kind of arguing couples were prone to have when they were just starting out. Or it might have been something serious—he'd never know.

Whatever it was, the only thing that Jesse could remember later was the image of Susannah's face, red with anger, and his just as flushed, and the crystal he'd stolen from Paul weighing heavily in the pocket of his jeans. All he could remember thinking was _I wish I could just make her _stop. He couldn't remember what he wanted her to stop—stop arguing? Stop whatever it was they were arguing about? But in that moment, her face changed. The color drained from her face, and her eyes went completely blank—no emotion showed in them at all.

"Jesse?"

The anger in her voice was gone, it sounded like it always did—when she wasn't mad at him, anyway.

Jesse just stared at her for a long moment. What was she—then something clicked in his head. "Nombre de Dios," he muttered, turning on his heel and leaving her, standing there in their living room.

He stood out on the balcony outside their bedroom, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. What was he doing? He pulled the crystal out of his pocket and stared at it. He wasn't going crazy, he decided. There was no way…

Glancing over his shoulder into the apartment, Jesse grimaced. There wasn't exactly much of a plausible explanation for what had happened. Turning back to look out, Jesse nearly threw the crystal as hard as he could. He didn't want it. He felt low and horrible, just holding it. He even held his arm back to let it fly, but in the end, something made him drop it back in his pocket. He would regret it later, of course. Hell, he regretted it already.

When he finally made his way back inside, Susannah was in the kitchen, starting dinner. On the rare nights he was home for dinner these days, they usually split up the duties in the kitchen. Tonight, she was putting a pan on the stove, and getting chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. She looked up when he came in, but didn't say anything right away.

He washed his hands at the sink and went to help her. After a long moment, he put his arms around her waist and leaned his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her scent deeply. He sighed.

She leaned against him, turning her head to see his face. "Are you okay?"

Jesse nodded. He hadn't told Susannah about the crystal. He probably should, he knew, but after what had just happened… he was reluctant to tell her. His own guilt would be enough to deal with.

**Present:**

They thought I was insane.

I lay there, curled up at the edge of my bed, staring at the wall across from me. The doctor—Jesse, he said his name was?—thought so, too, though he was a lot kinder about it, and he at least never said so in my hearing.

Closing my eyes, I could picture the scene from earlier. They didn't understand. And I couldn't make them. _I_ didn't even trust myself. I couldn't even tell if I'd _ever_ trusted myself.

* * *

Jesse was walking down the hallway that night, on his way to check on Susannah before he started his nightly rounds. It was his routine these days. He saw her in the mornings when he came in, he saw her again during lunch, he checked on her before his last rounds at night, and then, usually when she had already fallen asleep, he slipped into her room and stayed with her while she slept.

As he made his way toward Susannah's room, he suddenly heard weeping. He stopped, back tracked until he was in front of a door to an empty hospital room. Well, it was supposed to be empty, at least. At the moment, a young girl, probably only five or six, was sitting on the bed, crying.

To make matters worse, she was obviously dead.

Jesse went into the room, sitting on the bed beside the little girl. He pushed the hair out of her face, saying in his softest, most soothing voice, "What's wrong, querida?"

The little girl looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Jesse felt something tighten in his chest. She was so young…

She sniffed miserably. "I didn't want to upset her," she whispered.

Jesse blinked. "What?"

"I didn't want to make her scream," she clarified, sniffing again. "I just wanted her to help me."

Jesse closed his eyes. Things were starting to make more sense to him, now. He held the little girl close, trying to reassure her that everything was all right, that Susannah would be fine.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jesse was starting to believe it.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Finally at this part. Now the story can move faster, lol.

And I find it odd that I now have more reviews on this story than I have on "I'll Be Watching You" which has more chapters. O.o Hell, every chapter's had more reviews than the whole of "Another Haunted." Lol.

I feel loved. lol

Chapter 5

**Past:**

Over the years, I've gotten used to being woken up in the middle of the night. Ghosts, for some reason, have feel the need to come to me in the middle of the night.

This night, I woke up to loud crash. I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. I was home alone again—for the last night, thank God, exams were over and Jesse would be home soon from celebrating with Joe.

I crawled off the bed, grabbing my robe from the chair where I'd dropped it earlier. Putting it on, I made my way to the door and poked my head into the room, squinting to see in dim room. "Jesse?" I called. "Is that you?"

Before my eyes could adjust enough to see, someone grabbed me and pulled hard against them, they're hand clamping over my mouth. I acted instinctively, kicking out and trying to get away enough that I could fight him off.

I barely got away from him before something hard hit me against the back of my head. And then everything went black.

* * *

Jesse stumbled into the apartment, bogged down by exhaustion and the one celebratory beer he'd had with Joe—normally a perfectly safe amount for him to drink, but only served to make him feel worse. Weeks of little sleep was not the way to go, he decided.

Normally when he came home late, he didn't turn on the light, because he didn't want to disturb Susannah. Under normal circumstances, he could get from the door to the bedroom without making much noise.

Tonight would not be one of those nights.

He only made it a couple feet before he ran into something—something _hard_—that definitely should not have been there. Biting off a curse, Jesse leaned down to rub his aching shin with one hand and batted at the light switch with the other. When he finally managed to turn on the light, he saw the reason he had knocked into something.

"Nombre de Dios," he whispered, staring at his devastated living room. The coffee table—what he had walked into—had been knocked on it's side, the couch had been torn apart, the cushions laying strewn around the room. The drawers of the desk against one wall had been pulled out, papers scattered across the ground.

Jesse made his way through the room, calling for Susannah, and feeling panic building when she didn't answer him. When he reached the bedroom, he flicked on the light, only to find the bedroom in a similar condition. Susannah wasn't there. He looked everywhere—the spare bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, the master bedroom again. She wasn't there.

She was gone.

* * *

I had one hell of a headache.

That was the first thing I thought when I woke up. Well, it wasn't so much waking up as prying my eyelids open. I tried to move my arms, but they'd been tied over my head, and when I tried to move my legs, I realized they'd been tied together, too.

"What the hell?" I couldn't move at all. Well, unless you counted wiggling. I threw a glance around the room, trying to figure out where I was. It looked like a prison cell, almost. Cement walls on three sides, and bars where the door should be. There wasn't a window. I could see through the bars, but I couldn't tell what I was looking at from where I was laying.

I couldn't do anything at the moment. I had to just sit there, waiting for whoever was holding me there to show himself.

He didn't keep me waiting long. Before long, I heard a lock turning—the bars were a door, something I hadn't noticed before—and in stepped, of all people, Paul Slater.

Figures.

He leaned casually in the doorway, smiling a little crookedly at me. "Hello, Suze," he said, almost conversationally. His smile grew into a grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

Seriously. That's what he said. I pulled angrily on my wrists, trying to free myself. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded, not liking how it felt to be laying there, tied up, while he was looking at me like that.

Paul straightened. "Aw, come on, Suze, you can't tell me Jesse didn't tell you." He came into the room, still looking completely casual. I don't know how he does that. "Seems to me like the sort of thing a guy tells his wife."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

He stopped in front of me. "I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm talking about." He crouched down next to me, his face changing now. He didn't look so casual now. "Where is it?"

I shook my head, shifting away from him as best I could. I didn't like the look on his face. I didn't like it at all. "I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

Paul reached out and pulled me toward him again. I stiffened. "There are two ways we can do this, Suze. The easy or the hard way. You don't want to know what the hard way is."

"I told you—"

"Where is the crystal?" he bit off.

"The _what?_" I stared at him. "What are you—"

I didn't see it coming. I didn't expect him to do it at all. But before I knew what was happening, Paul had drawn back his fist and hit me right below the eye.

I let out an involuntary squeak, my eyes tearing up. Oh, God. I wasn't going to cry. Not just because he hit me. It wasn't like I hadn't been hit before—God knows ghosts have hit me more times than I can count—but I hadn't expected it. And then he hit me again. And again. It didn't matter that I kept trying to tell him I didn't know anything—I'm even sure he was listening.

When he finally stood up, what seemed like hours later, I'd curled up into a ball, feeling suddenly very small. I winced when he reached over me to untie my wrists. I didn't move when he picked me up and put me on what I'd been tied to—a bed, it turned out. When he untied my legs, I didn't even have the energy to kick at him, that's how bad it hurt.

See, I'm not exactly a weakling, but damn it, Paul was _strong._ Stronger than I was, anyway.

He walked out of the cell and locked the barred door behind him. He leaned his arms on the door, and looked in at me. "I'll let you sleep on it. Maybe tomorrow you'll be ready to tell me what I want to hear." Then he disappeared.

**Present:**

It took a great deal of finagling on his part, but in the end, Jesse finally convinced Dr. Davis to let him take Susannah home.

Joe leaned in the doorway, watching as Jesse put Susannah's things into a suitcase. "You sure this is the right thing?"

Jesse didn't bother to look up as he folded a blouse and set it inside the suitcase. "I've never been more sure of anything, Joe."

Joe was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. "Well, as long as you're sure, I guess." He glanced at where Susannah sat near the window. Then, he looked over his shoulder out into the reception area. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well, if you don't need any help in here…" He slipped out of the room.

Jesse smiled at Susannah. "Don't mind him, querida," he said, zipping up her suitcase. "He doesn't mean most of what he says."

At that moment, Jesse heard Joe say, "Hey, Trish."

"Hello, Joe." When Jesse glanced over his shoulder, he saw Trish typing at her computer, not bothering to look at Joe, who was leaning on her desk.

"How're you doing today?"

"Fine."

"That's good to hear." He waited a beat. "Listen, Trish, I was wondering—"

"No, Joe."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

Jesse saw Trish finally turn in her chair to look at Joe. She rolled her eyes at him. "Joe, you ask me the same question every Monday. The answer's always the same."

Joe straightened. "I don't ask _every_ Monday."

"That week you were out with the flu doesn't count."

"Aww, come on. Why won't you go out on date with me?"

"You're afraid of commitment, I don't want to date someone I work with, you're not my type. Do you need more reasons? And aren't you dating someone? What was her name? Cookie? Cupcake?"

"Candy. Her name was Candy. And we broke up."

"Uh-huh. My point exactly."

Jesse chuckled, picking up the suitcase. He moved toward Susannah, and crouched in front of her. "I'm going to be taking you home," he said softly. After a beat, he clarified, "My home." When Susannah didn't respond, he forced a smile. "You'll like it better than here, don't worry. You'll have more room—" he made a mental note to get the spare room ready for himself to sleep in. The more comfortable she was, the better, "—and you won't have to deal with all the doctors." He smiled ironically. "Well, except for me, anyway." He didn't mention yet that she would have to come back twice a week to see Dr. Davis. He decided it was too much to drop on her right then. There'd be plenty of time to tell her once she'd settled in back at the apartment. One thing at a time, he promised himself.

He straightened, motioning for her to get up, too. When that didn't work, of course, he resorted to telling her to come with him. Outside, Joe and Trish were still going at it.

Jesse led Susannah out of her room, past Joe and Trish, and toward the elevator. She would get better, he assured himself as he punched the down button. He glanced down at her. She had to.

* * *

A/N: Joe makes for decent comic relief. At least, he makes me feel better, anyway. ;) Y'all can enjoy him, if you want, but he's mostly here for my benefit. Lol. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Past:**

The next morning when I woke up, a plate was sitting inside the cell. It took me awhile to get out of the bed—God, was I sore—and pick up the plate. I was glad I didn't have a mirror, I could just imagine how bad I must've looked.

Scrambled eggs and toast. That was breakfast, I guess. No fork and knife, of course. I could've tried to attack him with it, probably. I'll give Paul this much, I mused, he wasn't trying to starve me.

That was more or less the way the next few days went. I sat in the little cell, waiting for Paul to show up. There wasn't much else to do. In the mornings, a plate was waiting for me—sometimes eggs, occasionally cereal, when I guess he got too lazy make scrambled eggs—and in the afternoons—noon, maybe? It wasn't like I had a clock to judge anything by—came lunch, usually a sandwich. And water, of course. And then in the evenings, Paul would come in, holding a covered plate. Then he'd lean against the barred door, and inform me that I could have dinner, just as soon I told him what he wanted to know.

Needless to say, I hadn't been eating a whole lot. And needless to say, by the end of the week I couldn't move.

I was curled up against the bar door, staring down at the empty dishes from lunch and breakfast. It took too much energy to get back to the bed. Energy that I definitely did not have at this point.

The door opened, and Paul was standing there, plate in hand. "Evening, Suze." He shook his head when I just blinked up at him. He came in and set the plate down on the bed, then came over to kneel on the ground next to me. I shrunk back instinctively when he reached out to touch my face. "Aww, come on, Suze. I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

Yeah, right.

Paul touched the bruise that had formed under my eye. "I take it you're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

I closed my eyes. Here we go again, I thought.

Paul stood up suddenly. When I opened my eyes, I saw him walk over to the bed and pick up the plate he had set there. He came back to me and set the plate down in front of me. "Enjoy your dinner, Suze." Then he turned and walked out of the cell, locking the door behind him.

I eyed the plate suspiciously. For all I knew, he could have poisoned it. I nudged back the cover, and inhaled. Pizza. He'd brought me pizza. Not exactly a feast, but I was so hungry, and it smelled so good…

* * *

In a room down the hall, Paul sat in a chair, tapping his fingers idly. As much as he hated to do it, he was going to finally have to admit that maybe Suze _didn't_ know where the crystal was. He rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. What was he going to do now? 

Standing up, Paul paced the room, trying to think. He needed a way to get it from Jesse, he knew that. There had to be something he could do.

Paul stopped suddenly and gazed out the open doorway, toward Suze's cell. He smiled grimly. Threats hadn't worked on Suze, but they might just work on her husband.

**Present:**

"Home sweet home," Jesse said, leading Susannah into the apartment. He had cleaned it up for her—he hadn't found much reason to keep it clean in the time she'd been gone. He'd made an effort to make everything look as nice as it could—it didn't exactly sparkle, but it would have to do.

Watching as Susannah wandered the living room, Jesse cleared his throat. "You're room's on the right, down that hall." He pointed to the short hallway leading to the bedrooms. "There's a bathroom at the end of the hall, and mine's right across the hall if you ever need anything in the night." He turned and locked the door, then turned toward the kitchen. "There's the kitchen. There are things in there that you can have if you're hungry and I'm not here to make you anything." He turned back to her and stopped. "Querida?"

Her face had gone completely white, and she backed away from him. The look on her face was like a punch to the gut—apparently something did penetrate that awful blank gaze of hers: terror. She was terrified of him.

"Oh, querida," he whispered, moving toward her. How could he help her if he couldn't tell what was wrong?

She pressed against the wall with a frightened squeak, her eyes pleading with him. Pleading with him for what? Not to hurt her? To take her back? To take away whatever it was he had done to frighten her?

What _had_ he done? He tried to think. She had been fine on the drive from the hospital, and when they came up to the apartment. She had been fine while he told her about the place, and then he had turned around to lock the…

_The door._ He turned to stare at it. Was that it? He looked back at Susannah, still pressed against the opposite wall. She wasn't about to offer him an explanation. Going on the only thing he had, he unlocked the door. He saw her wince at the sound of the lock turning, but she seemed to calm down a little, at least. She stayed in her spot near the wall, but some of the color returned to her cheeks.

Jesse closed his eyes. What had Paul done to her? "It's all right, Susannah," he said, moving into the room, careful to keep his distance. "No one's going to hurt you, I promise." He would make sure of it. Jesse glanced at the door, sighing resignedly. Even if he had to keep his door unlocked. It let her feel safer, at least.

* * *

A/N: My second chapter in a day. Wow. lol 


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Ringing in the new year with another chapter. Lol. This chapter's just Past, by the way. Like I said before, there's a lot more to cover there, and if I'm not careful I'll get ahead of myself. Lol.

Chapter 7

**Past:**

Still curled up by the door. That seemed to be where I was going to spend the night, I guess. The pizza was long gone at this point, of course. All I could do was sit there, and wait. For what, I couldn't tell you, but that's all I seemed to be doing these days. Waiting.

After a long time, Paul came back into the cell and cleared away the dishes. When he returned from putting them away, he sat on the bed, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and just looked at me.

That's all. We sat there for what felt like forever, staring at each other, and not saying anything. To tell you the truth, by this point I was afraid to open my mouth. Beyond pathetic, I knew that, but I couldn't help it. You'd be afraid to, after the beatings I'd had to go through while sitting in there, locked up like some animal (A/N: hehe, got that idea from Breaking.Benjamin's review. XD -gives credit-).

Finally, Paul sighed. "Do you know what the crystal does, Suze?"

I didn't even know what crystal he was talking about, and I'd told him so, more times than I could count. But instead of saying that again, I just shook my head and waited for him to continue.

"Mind control," Paul said, smiling ironically. "The sort of thing you'd read in some science-fiction novel." He shook his head. "I'm surprised Jesse didn't tell you all about it after he swiped it from me. Unless…" he tilted his head to look at me. "Unless, of course, he's been using it on you."

I gaped at him. Was he serious? Of course he was, I thought, he obviously believed every word that he was saying, otherwise he wouldn't be holding me here. Right? Of course that was right.

Then again, it _was_ Paul.

"Mind control's not possible," I croaked, finally. After a beat, I added, "And Jesse wouldn't do that."

Paul smiled. "I didn't expect you to be quite so naïve, Suze. He's certainly had it long enough to use it. And it must be hard to resist." He shrugged. "In a matter of moments, he could have the perfect wife, if he wanted to."

I shifted uneasily, not liking at all where this was going. "He wouldn't do that."

Paul shrugged again. "Maybe. I doubt you'd be able to tell, anyway." He stood from the bed and came toward me, his hand reaching into his pocket as he stopped in front of me. "Whatever the case, he has it, and I want it back." He pulled an object out of his pocket, though I couldn't see it clearly at the moment. My head was starting to spin. "There's only one way that I can see him handing it over, and… well, sorry about this, Suze."

I couldn't move, wedged against the door, and he was blocking the only direction I could have moved anyway. All I could was watch dumbly as the knife Paul had been holding came down toward me.

* * *

A wreck. That's what Joe said Jesse had turned into. He was probably right, Jesse thought, as he sat on the somewhat-repaired-couch in the living room, staring sightlessly at the muted television. That was most of what he had done for the past week. He hadn't slept, he'd barely eaten, and the phone rang off the hook after he yanked the answering machine's cord out of the wall following a particularly painful conversation with his in-laws.

That was about four days ago.

The police had come, searching the apartment for clues and questioning Jesse. He couldn't tell them very much. Nothing they would believe, anyway.

While he was still answering his phone, Joe had called. Jesse would give his friend that much—he was trying to be sympathetic. Suze was his friend as much as Jesse was, and he was worried about the both of them. But even then he couldn't understand. Not really.

"Jesse."

Turning, Jesse saw his friend standing in the doorway, as if he had conjured him up. "What are you doing here?" He glanced at the open front door. "How did you get in?"

"You left the door unlocked," Joe said, stepping further into the room. "Not exactly a safe way to go, Jess."

Jesse snorted derisively, turning back to the television. "What does it matter now?"

He heard Joe sigh. Joe took a seat in a chair next to the couch. He motioned at the beer bottles on the floor. "Trying to get yourself drunk?"

"Trying would be the operative word."

Joe nodded. "I see." There was a long pause. Then, "Have you been out at all?"

Jesse motioned to the beer, of which all but one of the bottles were still full. "I went to the store earlier. Took a walk."

Joe nodded again. "Walking's good," he said, not terribly helpfully.

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the soundless television. Finally, Jesse sighed, leaning forward. "Why are you here, Joe?"

"Ah, right." Joe cleared his throat. "I thought you might want to know. Found out our final scores." He smiled at Jesse grimly. "Congratulations, my friend, we're going to be doctors after all."

Jesse didn't respond. Deep down, he knew he should be elated. This was what he had always wanted. This was what he had been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. But he just felt empty.

Susannah was gone. Little else seemed to matter.

When Joe finally left, Jesse stood warily, turning off the TV. He should try sleeping again. Maybe this time he would actually succeed.

Jesse went into the bedroom for the first time since he had come home. He turned on the light and blinked. There was something on the bed. When he moved closer, he realized it was a piece of paper. He lifted it up, only to reveal a knife, dug into the bed. A very bloody knife.

Shaking violently, Jesse turned the paper over to read the words written there.

_Bring me the crystal before more people you care about get hurt.—P.S.

* * *

_

A couple days later, I awoke, laying on the bed. Paul had deposited me there after coming at me with the knife. I winced, sitting up and pressing a hand to the bloody bandage over my arm. Of all the places to aim for…

I could move now, at least. Paul had pretty much left me alone since the other night. Meals still showed up at the same time, though there wasn't anymore pizza.

It took me a moment to focus on the room around me, and that's when I realized something very important.

The door was open.

I stared at it. It had to be a trick, I reasoned. There was no way that Paul could have forgotten to close and lock it. He was trying to trick me… Wasn't he? I eyed the doorway for a long moment, thinking about it. If he was trying to trick me, he would be waiting for me the moment I stepped out of the cell. But if he wasn't…

I struggled to stand, and made my way to the doorway. I peeked out, looking around. I was in the middle of a long hallway, I realized. Everything that I could see in the hallway had obviously not been used in a long time—there was a thick layer of dust over everything.

I moved further out, keeping an eye out for Paul. When he didn't suddenly pounce on me, I started in the direction I hoped led to the outside. As soon as I got out of here, I promised myself for what had to be hundredth time, I would go to the cops. And then I'd find Jesse.

As I was passing by a doorway—the only one I could see—I heard Paul call, "Suze."

I stopped, turning to face the doorway. Paul was sitting in a chair across the room, smiling at me. He motioned for me to come in. I willed my feet to move away from him, but they seemed to have a mind of their own, and then I was walking into the room.

Paul's smile seemed to deepen. "Come here, Suze," he entreated, holding out his hand.

I felt suddenly very cold as I stopped in front of him. _Oh, God._ My head was pounding. This couldn't be what I was beginning to think it was. No.

Paul reached out to pull me closer. I flinched. Paul continued to grin at me. "Come on, Suze, I'm not going to hurt you," he said silkily.

I stared at him. "Did he give you the crystal?" I asked suddenly, feeling like my head was going to explode. Oh, God, what was _wrong_ with me?

Paul started rubbing his hand up and down my uninjured arm. "What are you talking about, Suze?"

I couldn't think. It felt like I was trying to hold onto something, but each time I tried to grab for it, it slipped out of my reach. Why couldn't I think? "Did he—"

Paul pulled me even closer, until all I could see was his face. "Who, Suze?"

My head was starting to clear. Nothing could be wrong, a part of me reasoned. Not when he was looking at me like that, and seeming so sweet… And then my head stopped pounding, and the niggling feeling in the back of my mind faded, until I just stood there, blinking at him.

"I don't know," I said. "No one."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Past:**

Dinner that night was a lot more cozy then usual. Paul pulled Suze onto his lap—she wasn't going to fight him at this point—while she ate the food he'd brought with him. He leaned back in the chair, content to just watch her for now.

She turned and smiled up at him. Her eyes didn't show any emotions—at least not any of the ones he was used to seeing there—but he would get used to that. He reached up to touch her bruised cheek, frowning. Pity that it had to come to that, he thought. Ah, well. He would make up for it.

Suze had finished her dinner. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, Paul stood, letting her slide off him. "Time for bed," he said reluctantly.

Reaching up to put her arms around his neck, Suze pressed closer to him. "I want to stay with you."

Not exactly what he had been planning. Not tonight, anyway. But looking down at her, feeling her pressed up against him… Hell, a man can only have so much self-control. Not that he had ever had very much to begin with.

Gently prying her arms from around his neck, Paul leaned down and kissed her, smiling. "Go upstairs, and wait for me." He glanced at her plate on the table next to his chair, and the plate he had been using earlier under it. He'd have to clean that up. "I'll be up in a bit."

He smiled, satisfied as she left the room. Finally, he thought, grabbing the plates and heading toward the kitchen, which he got to through a door on the other side of the room. Before he got there, though, he heard a shriek and a crash. Dropping the dishes with a thud, Paul rushed out of the room and down the hall, past Suze's cell, to the stares at the end of the hall.

Suze lay there, sprawled on the ground, struggling to get up.

Paul knelt to help her up. "Aww, Suze," he said gently, pulling her to her feet. She couldn't get up the stairs, he realized, feeling just a pang of guilt. He pushed it aside. She would be fine in a few days. Eyeing the bruises that he could see, he assured himself that there wouldn't be any need for that now. "Come on, I'll help you get back. You okay?" At her nod, he smiled. "If I'd realized you couldn't make it up on your own, I wouldn't have made you go without me." He paused, squeezing her hand. "You know that, don't you?"

She gave him a trusting smile. "Of course."

"Good." Paul led her back to the cell. He sat her down on the bed, giving her a quick kiss. "I think it's better if you sleep here tonight." He gave her a reassuring smile, then left the cell, closing and locking the door behind him.

Suze looked at him curiously. "Why do you have to lock the door?"

Paul stopped, surprised by her question. The truth was, he couldn't be sure how strong his control was—for all he knew, it might wear off by morning. Better to keep the door locked until he could be sure. Instead of telling her that, though, he cleared his throat, and said, "Ah, well… I didn't want to worry you with this, but…" he thought fast. What could he say? "I have enemies," he finally offered. "And I'm afraid that they might try to hurt you to get to me." He smiled. "It's to keep them out, not to keep you in."

It wasn't entirely a lie, and she seemed to take his word for it—of course she did. As Paul turned away, he mused that he _did_ have enemies. The minute Jesse found out that Suze was alive—something he probably wouldn't think, not after the knife he'd left in the apartment—he would want to get her back.

Paul considered that for a long moment. He had the suspicion that Jesse had used to crystal himself—he wasn't sure why, but the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to think that it might be likely. He had had it long enough, and, as Paul was beginning to find out, it was hard not to do it, even for the saintly Jesse de Silva.

If he played his cards right, he mused, he might be able to use that in his favor.

**Present:**

The next couple days were mostly uneventful. Jesse was spending as much time as he could at home, taking care of Susannah. Mostly, that consisted of doing whatever he thought she needed, which was more or less a guessing game for the most part.

Keeping the door unlocked wasn't much of a problem as long as he was home, but he felt uneasy every time he had to step out, though so far it hadn't been for more than half an hour.

Tonight, however, while he was busy getting things out of the refrigerator for his and Susannah's dinner, a call came from the hospital—there was an emergency, and he had to go _now._

He couldn't leave Susannah for that long. She could barely take care of herself beyond the most basic things at this point.

Out of desperation, Jesse went across the hall to knock on his neighbor's door.

He tapped his feet impatiently, waiting as he heard the sound of locks turning. He offered his most charming smile when a little old lady opened the door and peered up at him through large bifocals. "Hello, Mrs. Whitby."

The elderly woman smiled. "Dr. de Silva. Hello, how are you? How is your wife doing?"

Jesse glanced back at Susannah through the open apartment door. "Not very good, I'm afraid." He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Whitby, I have a favor to ask you." He explained to her quickly about Susannah's apparent aversion to locked doors. "I can't just leave her here alone, not when I can't even make sure she's safe."

Mrs. Whitby nodded, understanding. "No, of course not." She frowned sympathetically. "The poor dear. Imagine what must have made her like that." Shaking her head, she patted Jesse's arm. "Of course, I'll help you."

Jesse thanked her and took her into the apartment. He walked toward Susannah, trying to smile. "Querida, this is Mrs. Whitby," he said, motioning toward the woman. "I have to go to the hospital for awhile, and she will stay here with you." Turning to Mrs. Whitby, he told her, "I've already taken food out for dinner—"

Mrs. Whitby waved a hand, silencing him. "Oh, we'll be fine, dear." She smiled warmly at Susannah.

Jesse hesitated, then sighed. He didn't have any choice but leave her. "I'll be back as soon as I can, querida," he promised her, then turned to thank Mrs. Whitby, and grabbed his things to leave the apartment.

If he had turned around, he might have seen the stricken expression on his wife's face.

* * *

He was leaving.

I sat at the kitchen table while the woman—Mrs. Whitby—bustled around the kitchen, talking animatedly. I wasn't really paying attention, though it didn't matter. No one expected me to respond, anyway.

Had I done something wrong? I wondered, feeling panicked. He claimed he would be back, but what if he didn't? What if he never came back?

Later that night, I lay curled up on my bed, listening to Mrs. Whitby's snores coming from the living room. I didn't relax until I heard the front door open, and heard Jesse's hushed voice as he spoke to Mrs. Whitby.

I shut my eyes tightly when he appeared in my doorway, pretending to be asleep. I heard him come into the room. Before I could scoot away, he leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead, and murmured. "Goodnight, Susannah."

That was all. Just that. When I cracked open an eye to see what he would do next, he had already turned away and was walking out of the room toward his own bedroom.

Trust, I was learning, was a very hard thing to be gained. Even so… I felt better knowing he was home.

* * *

A/N: The Planet's Most Extreme on Animal Planet has been on all day long. I'm a geek. :-P But dang it, I'm a HAPPY geek. lol 


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay… last chapter turned out better than I thought it was going to when I started it. XD Sooo… hopefully this chapter will follow suit. The first part was kind of written awhile ago… Hopefully only parts of it will have to be rearranged. :-P

Chapter 9

**Past:**

What was he doing there?

That was the question Jesse kept asking himself as he entered the house where Paul had asked him to come. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be at home, trying to put all this behind him. He needed time to grieve—a lot of time to grieve.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse walked down the hallway to a room that looked vaguely like a library. Paul was standing there, looking rather smug.

"What do you want?" Jesse demanded. "You have what you wanted, what more do you want from me?"

Paul smiled. "Yes, I got what I want. But I wanted to show you something." He stood up, walking past Jesse and to the door. He leaned out the doorway and called, "Susie! Come here, honey."

Jesse just stared, dumbstruck, as Susannah walked into the room. "Querida," he whispered. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were blank, empty, as though the life had been drained out of her.

Oh, God. What had he done?

Paul put his arm around Susannah, and she merely turned to smile at him. "Suze, I wanted to introduce you to someone." He pointed to Jesse. "This is Jesse."

She turned and smiled at Jesse, but there was no sign of recognition. Paul had made her forget everything. The Susannah Simon he had known was gone, replaced only by an empty shell, a puppet in Paul Slater's merciless hands.

And he—Jesse—had done that to her. Maybe not directly, but he had handed Paul the tools to do it.

"Querida," Jesse said again. "What have I done?"

Susannah blinked at him, looking back at Paul. "I don't understand."

Paul rubbed his hands down her arms, smiling at her. Jesse wanted to so badly to kill him right then, but if he did, he wasn't sure what would happen to Susannah.

"Don't worry about it," Paul was saying. To Jesse, he said, "De Silva, I'll have to ask you to not to confuse my girlfriend."

Jesse stiffened, glaring at Paul. They stood like that for awhile, until Paul finally sent Susannah to bed. "What have you done to her?"

Paul sat down in his chair, smirking at Jesse. "Come on, Jesse, haven't done anything you probably haven't done." He grinned at Jesse's guilty expression. "That's what I thought. I wouldn't be so quick to judge me, if I were you, Jesse. You and I are in the same boat."

"What I did—"

"—Is exactly what I'm doing. Except maybe to a lesser extent?" Paul shrugged. "If Susannah knew, don't you think she would be just as angry with you as she would be with me?" He raised an eyebrow. "We could ask her right now, if you want."

Jesse shook his head, feeling sick. He was right, he thought bleakly. If Paul was guilty, so was he.

As he left, Jesse considered taking Susannah with him. He almost turned around and went looking for her. But, just like when he had thought of killing Paul, he couldn't be sure what would happen to Susannah. And if he called the police… could he guarantee that Susannah would still be here—and safe—by the time they got there?

He couldn't. But there still had to be something he could do.

**Present:**

"So, how has she been doing?" Dr. Davis asked when Jesse brought Susannah in to see him.

Jesse rubbed a hand over his eyes, sighing. "Things have been all right, for the most part…" Jesse told Dr. Davis about what had happened when he brought Susannah home. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Until I know why she is reacting this way, I can't prevent it."

"Hmm." Dr. Davis considered this for a long time. "There must be something you can do. You can't keep your door unlocked at all times—not only is there a worry for whoever did this to her, but there's the danger of burglars and other things to worry about, too."

Jesse nodded. "I know." Sighing, he stood and shook the doctor's hand. "I'm sure we will work something out."

* * *

A/N: I don't know what these things are actually called, so "chain lock" refers to those door locks with the chain thing. Hence the name. lol. Chain lock made the most sense.

* * *

It took a week, but Jesse finally figured out a way to fix things.

Standing back to inspect his handiwork, Jesse smiled. A chain lock. Easy enough to manage, and without the sound of a lock turning that seemed to so bother Susannah.

"Susannah?" Jesse called. "Come here for a minute, please."

Susannah emerged from her room and approached him warily. Jesse smiled at her. "I wanted to show you something." Turning to the door he pointed to the chain lock. "See, you just put the chain into the lock like this—" he demonstrated for her "—and now it can keep people from getting in, and you can get out if you need to." He smiled. "If I'm outside, I can't even get in if you don't want me to." He turned around to measure her reaction—if any—and stopped. Her eyes had filled with tears. "Oh, querida, don't cry. I'm sorry. If you don't like it I can—"

And then, something happened—something that he hadn't seen in a very long time. As he watched, the corners of her mouth turned up. She smiled at him. Susannah was smiling at him for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

It made everything finally seem worth it.

* * *

A/N: A little short, but still. :-P I can only manage so many long chapters when writing one a day. XD


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: I'd write little individual thank yous, but… well, I'm a lazy bum. Hehe. So, thank y'all for all the lovely reviews. :-)

The first part of "Past" (where Suze is narrating) is one of those rare parts that I haven't thought to death and planned out. Hopefully it'll work out okay, anyway. -crosses fingers- If it doesn't… be nice and pretend it does. ;-)

Chapter 10

**Past:**

Days rolled by. That's what it seemed like, anyway. The mornings and afternoons were a little lonely, until Paul would come by. He gave me books to read so I wouldn't be bored during the day, but I was still happier when he'd open the door in the evenings and smile at me.

Evenings were spent curled up in his lap, eating dinner, and afterward… well. Nothing _really_ happened. But it was still nice. Really nice.

Which is why, when I could finally get up the stairs on my own, I found myself laying next to Paul in his bed, curled up next to him. He was just holding me, and occasionally kissing me, and it felt so good at that moment that I didn't mind when he rolled over on top of me and started untying the sash on my robe.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, leaning down to kiss me again.

"I love you." I didn't even think about saying it. It just sort of slipped out, and I didn't really think he would be surprised by it. Or that he would react like he did.

Paul froze, staring at me. "What?"

I blinked at him, confused. "I said I—"

He suddenly rolled off me and started for the door. "Don't," he ordered, opening the door. "Don't say that."

"But—"

Before I could finish, though, he was out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Now was definitely a bad time to start feeling guilty, Paul thought as he stormed down the stairs. It wasn't as if this wasn't something he'd wanted—wasn't Suze loving him what he had been trying for anyway? 

He sat on the bottom step, leaning against the banister. Yes, that's what he wanted, but not like this.

Wasn't that a hell of a note? He didn't want her love if he had to force it from her, but that was the only way he was going to get it.

* * *

When Jesse returned, he half expected to find Paul lurking around somewhere. He had waited—agonized—for two weeks before coming back. He was fully prepared to deal with Paul when he arrived, but apparently it wouldn't come to that. Not today, anyway. 

Jesse wandered down the hallway, looking for Susannah. He glanced into the room he had been in before, but she wasn't there. About halfway down the hall, he finally found her.

"Susannah." Paul had locked her in a cell. _A cell._ As if being able to control her wasn't enough?

Susannah looked up from the book she had been reading and smiled at him, setting book down beside her. The smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes—nothing seemed to penetrate that blank gaze. She stood and moved toward him.

He reached through the bars to touch her cheek. "Oh, querida," he said softly. "What has he done to you?"

She frowned. "I don't know what that means."

Jesse smiled faintly, thinking for a moment of when they had first met and he had called her that. "It means 'sweetheart.'"

"Oh," she murmured, blushing a little.

"Querida," Jesse said again, stroking her cheek as best he could. "Don't you remember me?"

She frowned again. "Of course I do. I met you just a few—"

"No," he interrupted. "You knew me before." Jesse pressed closer. "Paul has made you forget. You have to remember."

Susannah backed away from him, looking suddenly uneasy. "No," she whispered.

"Yes," he urged. His hand connected with her shoulder and he pulled her closer again. "I'm not going to hurt you, querida," he promised when she tried to pull away, "I love you."

She stared at him. Jesse waited a beat, not sure what to do. Finally, when she didn't pull away, he leaned down and kissed her through the bars. He felt her stiffen for a moment, and then, thank God, she was kissing him back.

Finally, she drew back and gasped out, "_Jesse."_

**Present:**

"_Basketball_, Joe? Now?"

"Yes, now. Come on, Jesse, I haven't been able to drag you onto the court in months." Joe bounced the basketball on the kitchen floor. "You used to love it."

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Correction, you used to make me play so you could have someone to beat."

Joe grinned. "True." He winked at Susannah, who was sitting at the kitchen table. "He's a horrible shot, you know." He turned back to Jesse. "Come on, man, you owe me."

Sighing, Jesse threw down the dish towel he'd been holding. "You're never going to let me live down the Biochemistry experiment, are you?"

"Never." Joe tossed the ball in the air. "Go change, and let's go. Suze can even come watch. You'd like that, right, Suze?" Joe didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact that Susannah wasn't going to answer him. Even if it had been under normal circumstances, Joe still would have found a way to make her come if he had his mind set on it.

Jesse just shook his head and started for his room. "Fine. But just for a couple hours, all right, Joe?"

"Whatever you say, Jess."

* * *

He really was an awful shot. 

It wasn't a very nice thing to say, I knew that. But as I sat on the grass next to the basketball court—the only bench nearby was all the way down on the other end, and someone was sitting on it, anyway—watching Jesse and Joe play, it was becoming increasingly obvious. He wasn't _bad_, per se. It was just that he only got the ball through the hoop about half as often as Joe did. But he could block well—probably because he was a bit taller.

There, I thought. I would just focus on that. Jesse had been so nice to me, I hated to think anything bad about him. I had the niggling feeling in the back of my mind that I could trust this man—why couldn't I just bring myself to do it?

Maybe it was that thought that brought it up, or maybe it was sitting there, watching them, but suddenly it was like I'd been pulled back in time. The setting was the same, but so still so much different…

"_That's not how you do a lay-up!" _

"_I am doing exactly what you showed me to do, Joe." Jesse ran to retrieve the basketball from where it had rolled next to me. He smiled at me. "Sorry, querida." He scooped it up, careful not to disturb the notes I had spread out in front of me._

"_Jesse, come on, are you going to play, or flirt with your girlfriend?" Joe called, sounding exasperated. _

_Jesse rolled his eyes and I laughed, watching as he returned to the game. Joe trying to teach Jesse how to play basketball—not exactly what I had envisioned happening with Jesse being alive, but God, it felt good to watch them._

I shook myself out of my revelry, staring at them. A memory, I realized, not some crazy rambling. A real memory.

_Jesse._

A/N: Hmm. Feeling if-y on this one. Didn't turn out quite as I wanted it to, but still.

And before anyone asks me: No, Suze and Paul did not have sex. O.o I've apparently been writing fanfiction too long—I'm anticipating confusion. What I think makes perfect sense doesn't necessarily make sense to everyone else. :-P Right, I'm the one writing this. Of course it makes sense to me. Lol


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Must avoid writing about the Present again. :-P Wish I didn't have to, I've been waiting to be able to get to this part for awhile. As someone said (sorry, I remember the review, just don't feel like going back to check who said it XD) stuff in the past is getting worse. Mostly bad for Suze, but bad for Paul, too, 'cause he sort climaxes on the evilness thing this chapter, and more or less nosedives after that. Lol.

O.o Believe it or not, I actually _liked_ Paul at the end of Twilight. Unfortunately, I'd already begun thinking of this thing, and it was hard enough having to change things so Jesse was alive (made some things better, others worse, lol) I didn't feel like thinking up another villain. That, and after all the torture I gave him in my other fanfics, it just seemed so wrong to make him anything but evil…

And this will probably end up being long/have a lot in it. Good in a way, but hopefully it won't end up seeming rushed…

Chapter 11

**Past:**

Dinner that night was very tense.

I sat in Paul's chair while he leaned against the door, watching me. Jesse's arrival had left me confused and more than a little wary. I glanced up at Paul periodically, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he straightened away from the door. "You had a visitor today," he said. He wasn't asking a question, I realized. He knew Jesse had been there.

I swallowed hard, putting my plate down on the table. "Yes. Jesse came by."

Paul watched me for a long moment, smiling grimly. "Are you afraid of me, Suze?"

I shifted in my chair. "No, of course not."

Paul moved toward me, coming to stand behind the chair, his hands resting on my shoulders. I tried not to stiffen. What was wrong with me? I'd been fine around Paul before. "Good," he said. "Suze… I don't want you to see him again." His fingers moved idly, massaging my shoulder.

"But… why?"

Paul's hands tightened for a moment, then relaxed. "You remember what I said about having enemies?" When I nodded, he said, "Well, Jesse's one of them." He said it matter-of-factly, as though it concluded the issue. And maybe if he had said it yesterday, it might have. Today…

"But…"

"But what, Suze?" his voice was calm, but I could tell he was becoming impatient.

I swallowed again, wondering for a moment if he would let me go if I tried to move away from him. "He said he loved me."

Paul's grip tightened again, this time staying that way. I didn't dare look up at him to see his expression. "And do you love him, too?"

I didn't answer for a long moment. My mind felt weird, like I was trying to fight to get awake. "I-I don't know," I finally whispered, so softly I didn't think he heard for a minute.

Paul let me go, moving away from me. I sat back against the chair, closing my eyes. What was I going to do?

Maybe if I'd been paying more attention I would have been able to do something. Get away, try to block it, something. But I wasn't paying attention, and before I knew what was happening, the side of my head was exploding with pain where Paul's fist had connected with it.

* * *

Paul walked back toward the cell, carrying Suze in his arms. She'd let out a little whimper when he'd reached down to pick her up, but other than that she just clung to his neck so he wouldn't drop her.

Stupid, impulsive—did he mention stupid?—things to do: expect to be able to maintain control forever, letting his guard down just because Suze had blurted out "I love you" when she couldn't really mean it, and then bringing _Jesse_ here—as if he wasn't going to try something, knowing where Suze was?

Paul set Suze down on her bed in the cell, pulling the sheet up to cover her. He eyed her critically for a moment. She'd have a black eye in the morning, no doubt about it. Yet another strike against him—going into a rage because of something she couldn't exactly control.

Shutting the door behind him as he left the cell, Paul perched his elbows on the bars, looking in at her. He could let her remember all that, he mused. He could ignore the need to erase that ugly episode from her mind. Let her be afraid of him. God knew she had reason to. The more time passed, the more he was beginning to scare himself.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Paul turned away from her, making his way toward the stairs.

In the morning, she wouldn't remember anything that he had done. But what he had said about Jesse—that she would remember.

* * *

Jesse approached the cell, feeling slightly better than he had yesterday. Things were looking up, he thought. If he could push Susannah a little further, maybe…

He didn't finish that thought, because when he stopped in front of the cell door, he saw Susannah sitting there again, like she had yesterday, but this time when she looked up at him she was more weary, keeping her distance.

And one of her eyes had been blackened.

"Querida," he whispered, staring at her. He wanted so badly to reach through the bars to touch her again, but she stayed out of his reach. His fault, he realized hollowly. If he hadn't come yesterday…

Was this another message from Paul? He wondered. That the more he tried to reach Susannah, the worse she would be hurt? If that was what he was trying to tell Jesse, he was making it loud and clear.

"Y-You have to go," Susannah said shakily.

Jesse felt a prickly feeling behind his eyes. He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to cry, he assured himself. Susannah was here, he needed to deal with that. "Querida," he said silkily, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Can't we talk? I'm not going to hurt you, querida, I promise." He pulled on the cell door without really thinking. The latch made a clicking sound and opened a bit. He saw Susannah's eyes widened. The door had been left unlocked? "I won't come in if you don't want me to," Jesse assured her, closing the door. "See?" Jesse stepped back. "Won't you let me in, Susannah?"

He watched as she bit her lip, eyeing him suspiciously. Finally, she came to the door and opened it, taking a step back to let Jesse in.

Jesse moved into the cell, shutting the door behind him. He reached for Susannah, pulling her into his arms before she could move away again. He half-expected her to try to get away from him, but she just leaned into him, burying her face in his chest.

Leading toward the back of the cell, Jesse sat down, pressing his back against the wall. Susannah sat between his legs, leaning against his chest.

They sat like that for a long time, with Jesse just holding Susannah for what he felt certain would be the last time. He didn't want to let her go, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to come back. It hurt worse then anything he had ever had to do, and he would certainly try to find a way around it, but the truth was, Paul had backed him into a corner—he couldn't be sure that anything he did wouldn't lead to Susannah getting hurt.

And he couldn't promise that that wouldn't happen regardless.

So he just sat there, holding Susannah for as long as he could. When she shifted uncomfortably against him—he was pressing on a painful bruise, he realized—he would move his hand, but otherwise they didn't move.

When Jesse finally left, he leaned down to kiss Susannah one last time, and backed away from the cell, keeping his gaze on her for as long as he could before he had to turn away.

* * *

Paul stood in the shadows of the room, watching as Susannah opened the cell door to let Jesse in. He'd left the door open on purpose—testing her. Giving her the chance to turn him away if that's what she meant to do.

He waited, watching the cell, feeling worse with each moment that passed. She could be trying to tell Jesse right this moment, he assured himself. Jesse would try to convince her to do otherwise, of course, Paul could hardly expect anything else. And then she would tell him he couldn't come anymore…

Paul stood there for an hour, waiting. There was still no sign of Jesse leaving. Paul closed his eyes, turning away. He didn't want to know what they were doing in there. He didn't want to think about it.

He would have to do something, he thought miserably. He would hate himself. Susannah would learn to hate him. Or fear him. Hell, they would both be painful.

Worse, he knew it wouldn't keep him from doing it.

* * *

I sat on my bed, trying to read, waiting for Paul. He wouldn't do anything when he found out, I assured myself. Maybe he'd be angry or disappointed, but he wouldn't do anything worse… right?

I sighed, relieved when Paul opened the cell door. I gave him a wobbly smile, standing up.

His face remained expressionless as he held out his hand to me. "Come with me."

I took his hand and followed him out into the hallway. Everything would be all right, I assured myself, trying to relax as we made our way up the stairs.

Paul opened the door and stepped back to let me go before him. I stepped into the room and stopped short. A very large man—large as in strong, not fat, at least as far as I could tell—was standing near the bed, looking at me very strangely.

And he was glowing.

I took an unsteady step back. As I turned to look back at Paul, I heard the door shut behind me and the loud _click_ of the lock.

I turned to stare at the door. "Paul?" I reached for the door handle, trying to open the door, even though logically I knew it was locked from the outside. "Paul?" I glanced over my shoulder at the man moving toward me. _It's_ _all right,_ I assured myself. _Nothing's going to happen._ It didn't keep a feeling of panic from rising as he drew closer. I jiggled the handle again.

"Paul!"

* * *

A/N: Yikes.

Waiting for my 100th review… O.o I've never had 100 reviews on anything before (well, more than 100 reviews cumulatively on a series, but not on one story.)

Bad news: I've misplaced my remote. I can't watch The Planet's Most Extreme. You have no idea how painful this is. Well, one of you does, but the rest… -shudders- just know it's beyond torture.


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Oddly enough, I'm becoming more reluctant to update the closer to the end I get. O.o Usually, it happens in the reverse (farther from the end I am, the more reluctant) :-P

While trying to plot out the remainder of the story (I've had the whole story in my head from the beginning, just been a matter of figuring out how to time it) I realized I'm almost at the end, and I didn't even notice. O.o That's what I get for updating so quickly, I suppose. My brain's still functioning on the "once a month update if you're lucky" mindset. Lol

And I do believe all of Past is in Paul's P.O.V. this time. O.o

Chapter 12

**Past:**

Paul sat with his back against the door. He forced himself to stay there throughout, listening to her scream, to feel the pounding against the door—to feel when that pounding suddenly stopped.

He wouldn't kill her. The ghost, that is. Paul had made certain of that, at least. It didn't make him feel any better.

Paul sat out there until the screaming stopped, until he couldn't hear anything through the door anymore. He sat there, shaking, for a long moment, until he forced himself to get up and unlock the door.

She was curled up on the bed, her face red from her tears. She looked so damn small, he thought. Paul forced himself to cross the room and lean over her. He didn't know how he managed to keep his voice steady as he said, "You see what happens when you disobey me?"

Suze closed her eyes and nodded.

"Good." Paul stepped back, and asked more gently, "Can you stand on your own?"

Suze nodded again, and, with jerky movements that couldn't have been anything but painful, she sat up and scooted to the side of the bed. She attempted to push herself to her feet, but she only managed to wobble for a minute before her knees buckled.

Paul swore under his breath, grabbing her arms to keep her upright. "So much for that," he muttered, more to himself than to her. In the end, he settled for carrying her back to the cell. He set her down on the bed. "I'll be back in a bit with dinner," he assured her, though he doubted she was paying any attention to a word he was saying. She was already in her own little world.

Sighing, Paul left the cell, closing and locking the door behind him without bothering to think of what he was doing. Not until he saw Suze suddenly jackknife into a sitting position, staring at him. "Suze?"

"I said I wouldn't disobey you again!" she said frantically, trying to get out of bed but, when that didn't work, she just plopped back down and continued to stare at him. He could see her eyes filling with terrified tears from where he stood.

Paul stared at her dumbfounded. Then he turned his gaze to the lock and stared at that. _Oh, God. _What had he done?

He quickly unlocked the door again and fled.

* * *

If things had been bad before that, they seemed like heaven in comparison to what happened over the next few weeks.

Things fell back into a routine. Mornings, afternoons, evenings—they all returned to relative normal. Whatever that meant anymore.

Paul barely noticed at first when the plates came back mostly full. But soon enough he was noticing how skinny Suze had suddenly gotten. And in the evenings, when he brought both their dinners into her cell so she wouldn't have to struggle down the hall, she would just sit and watch him expectantly while _he_ ate, never actually taking a bite herself.

Paul looked up from his spot on the floor where he had been eating. "Suze?" She looked up. "Don't you like your food?"

She didn't respond, just continued to look at him.

Paul swallowed, finally allowing himself to take in her appearance. She wasn't eating, he realized. Not just now—she hadn't been eating anything, at all. He felt sick to his stomach. How long had this been going on? "I…" He coughed, throwing down his napkin. He waved a hand at her plate, pitifully. "Eat."

And then, as if nothing strange had just happened, Suze turned to her plate and began eating.

Just like that.

It continued like that for a while. She wouldn't eat unless he specifically told her to, no matter how much food he piled on her plate, or how hungry he knew she must be. She wouldn't sleep either unless he told her to.

Paul sat in the room down the hall, staring up at the ceiling. This was it. It was over. A twisted experiment in mind control was done. And hadn't it just been a great success?

Suze was standing near the bookshelf against the wall, peering at the titles. Paul watched her, taking his sweet time with what he knew he was going to do. He didn't know what would be crueler—subjecting Suze to everything that he had, or sending her out of here in the state she was in.

He didn't know. It didn't matter, anyway, he'd made this mess, now he had to finish it.

"Susie," he said softly, holding out his hand to her when she turned to look at him. "Come here, sweetheart."

She moved toward him obediently. She sat on his lap, and looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes looked huge now that her face was so thin. Paul touched her face gently, suddenly afraid in a way he should have been long before now.

He held her for a long time, not wanting to let the moment go yet. He wouldn't be able to do this again.

Leaning forward a little to kiss her forehead, he whispered, "I'm sorry." And then his hands moved from where he had laid them at her waist to encircle her throat. Her eyes widened, and she gave an involuntary jerk back, but other than that she held still. He was choking her, and, God help them both, she was already so far gone she couldn't find it anywhere in her to fight back. The Suze Simon of old was well and truly gone.

Unbidden, memories came flooding back to him in those moments. Of Suze, laughing at his stupid attempts to flirt with her; of Suze, yelling at him, arguing with him; of Suze, that first time they had kissed. Images of Suze from before—and then images of Suze from the past few months. The woman he had long thought he loved… But what the hell did he know about love, anyway?

Enough.

As her face was starting to change a frightening shade of blue, Paul finally let her go. She fell back off his lap, landing in a heap on the floor, staring at him. "Get out," he said hoarsely.

"I… what did I do?"

Paul laughed harshly, getting out of the chair and moacross the rving oom to open the door for her. He tried to kill her and she wanted to know what _she_ had done? "Get out of this house." He felt like he were about to choke himself.

"But I—"

He shook his head in firm denial what he knew she would say. "No. Once you get out of here, you'll hate me." He couldn't promise that. He didn't know. He could hope, at least, for her sake, anyway.

She stood, planted in the spot, staring at him still.

"_Go."_

She went.

**Present:**

Jesse watched, shaking his head grimly, as Joe made yet another shot. He had no idea why Joe insisted on dragging him along. He seemed to do about as well with him there as without him. And then he had to drag Susannah along, too…

_Susannah._ Jesse shot a glance to where she was standing to check on her. He stopped, feeling concerned when he saw the way she was staring at him. Her face had gone very pale suddenly. "Susannah? Are you all right?" He shot a look back at Joe and jogged over to Susannah. "Querida?"

When she just continued to look at him, Jesse sighed. "Joe," he called over his shoulder. "I'm going to take Susannah home." He looked back to see Joe nod. "I think something's wrong."

"No problem." Joe offered a half-smile. "Feel better, Suze!" An odd statement to make, but coming from Joe, it sounded almost normal. If anything Joe said could be counted as normal, anyway.

Jesse kept glancing at Susannah throughout the drive home. What could have happened? He wondered. He wished, for what must have been the thousandth time, that he could ask, but of course, he wouldn't have gotten any sort of answer.

When they entered the apartment, Jesse threw his keys down on the coffee table, running a hand through his hair. "I need a shower," he said absently. "If you—"

"I'm sorry."

He was hearing things. That must be it. He had not just heard a hoarse little voice say that. But as he watched color suddenly flood Susannah's cheeks, he realized he _had_ heard it. _Nombre de Dios._

"What did you say?" he finally managed to force out.

For a moment he didn't think she would respond. But then, after a moment, she took a deep breath and said, in that soft, hoarse voice, "I'm sorry I ruined your game."

Jesse felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. It wasn't much, but she was _talking_. To _him. _He wanted to run to her and take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, and tell her how much he loved her, how much he had _missed_ her—missed her voice, missed the way she had once been, missed _everything_.

In the end, he kept his distance—he couldn't be sure how she would react if he touched her. And all he really managed to get out was one word. Well, two words, really. "Oh, querida."

* * *

Jesse was lying awake, unable to sleep after the events of the day. He wanted to jump for joy, but he knew they still had a long road ahead of them.

"Jesse."

Turning on his side, Jesse saw Susannah standing in the doorway. Sitting up,he said, "What is it, querida?" When she didn't respond right away, he swallowed, and said hopefully, "Have you remembered something that happened to you?"

"No."

Jesse closed his eyes. _Patience_, he told himself. He had to be patient. Things would come soon enough—

"But I remember _you._"

His eyes snapped open and he turned to stare at her. In the dim light from the hallway, he could see her eyes filled with tears. "Querida," he whispered.

It was all the invitation she seemed to need, because the next thing he knew, she was running into his arms, and he was holding her, and dear God, it felt good to be holding her again. He pulled her up onto the bed, hugging her to his chest while she cried, and he felt his own tears spill over. They lay like that for a long time, crying and holding each other like they were afraid the other might suddenly disappear.

And afterward… well.

* * *

A/N: I'm getting terribly descriptive with that sort of thing, aren't I? 


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: That was kind of strange. I didn't check my reviews for about an hour and all of a sudden I had 5 more. O.o Now if only that would happen when I first post, and am most anxious to see what y'all think. :-P Updating around 9pm is rather inconvenient like that.

Second to last chapter… wow. O.o it went by fast. Lol. You get to read the last of "Past" (well, sort of. You'll see what I mean next chapter.) It sort of ends where the Present started way back in the Prologue.

I'm not terribly good at writing violence. Hence why most of the violent things that happen, you don't really see. And I prefer not to write about sex. Which, to answer the questions people have been asking, is what Suze and Jesse did "afterward" at the end of the last chapter. :-P Bring on the lemon, indeed. It's more implied than anything, and I'm telling you this now, because it's important for the end of this chapter, and our last view of Paul.

Random background: O.o the cop mentioned in the first part of Past was apart of a former variation of this story, in which he had a much bigger role than he does here. When I changed it all, his part in the story just sort of made things too complicated/messy, and it didn't fit right. :-P But I kind of liked him, so he has a short cameo, anyway.

And as a completely random note: Oh, boy. My dad has taken to learning French. Feel free to save me—please.

Chapter 13

**Past:**

Saturday night patrolling was usually eventful—drunk drivers on the road, parties that were getting too rowdy, among other things.

Officer Dan Hudson turned down another street, glancing periodically at the clock. He was only on duty for another half hour. He was more than ready to go home after a long night.

At that moment, he spotted someone stumbling down the street. He shook his head. Another drunk, no doubt. At least this one had had the sense not to try to drive.

As he neared the figure, he—or she, Dan couldn't tell just yet—suddenly collapsed. Dan pulled up along aside and got out of the squad car. Moving around the car, he knelt down and shook their shoulder. It was a young woman, he realized. "Miss?" She was lying on her side, facing away from him. He gently turned her over and finally got a clear view of her.

"_Holy Shit!"

* * *

_

It had been a very long day.

Jesse sat at his desk in the tiny office they had given him when he took the job at the hospital. Joe had talked him into finally getting out of the apartment and looking for a job aside from the one at the Historical Society that he had held for the past four years.

Glancing at his watch, he thought that it was about time to head home. Unless there was an emergency in the next ten minutes, he could go home, eat something, and head for bed. The way his brain was functioning at the moment, it sounded heavenly.

He hadn't seen Susannah in weeks. He didn't know how she was, he didn't know what was happening to her—hell, he couldn't even be sure she was still _alive_. He hoped, of course. He couldn't do much else except hope.

Right as Jesse was starting to stand to go home, his office—well, it was more of a closet with a desk, at this point. Given more time, he would hopefully have a larger office—door opened and Joe stepped in.

Shuffling the papers on his desk, and shrugging off his lab coat, Jesse said, "What is it, Joe?"

"She's here." Joe's voice sounded strange—a little strained.

Jesse glanced up at him. Becoming a little concerned at the look on Joe's face—and the fact that he had turned an odd shade of green—Jesse came out from behind his desk. "Are you all right?"

Joe ignored his question. "She's _here."_

"Who's here?"

"Suze."

* * *

A/N: The next part takes place awhile after the Present in the last chapter. O.o assume it's something like a few weeks to a month later.

* * *

**Present:**

I sat on the closed toilet seat, staring at the wall. _Oh, God._ This was one of the things I had been afraid of. The more the memories returned—and they hadn't all returned yet. There were still things that were foggy; though I have the feeling it's probably better that way—the more I had started to wonder if I might not find out later that there consequences for it all that I couldn't imagine.

I pressed a hand over my stomach, feeling horribly nauseous. I'd been feeling that a lot lately. Though, now it was more from dread than anything.

Not of what I'd end up getting out of it, of course. That I knew I couldn't really dread—at least not without feeling like a horrible person—but what had caused it all.

I left the bathroom, and went to grab my coat. I was glad that Jesse wasn't home right then, because if he had been he would have tried to talk me out of going. But I needed to go. I needed closure. I needed to _know.

* * *

_

Paul was contemplating the merits of getting drunk.

He'd never done it before. He had contemplated it a million times since he had sent Suze away. He thought about it every time he started to wonder what might be happening to her right that instant. Was she okay? Was she with Jesse? Had she healed—mentally, physically, emotionally? He tortured himself with those questions, sat in her cell for hours and wondered if he hadn't destroyed himself in his attempts to control her.

He had waited for the police to come. Surely she would send them, the minute she could. He wouldn't blame her. Even if she didn't, Jesse would now, for sure.

But the cops never came. Paul waited for two months, not even bothering to leave the first place they would undoubtedly look. So he just stayed where he was.

He had gone down to the liquor store and bought the most interesting thing he could find—some Greek thing called "ouzo" which smelled strongly like black liquorish. He'd poured himself a glass and never touched it. So much for that.

"Paul."

Jerking his gaze to the doorway, he saw Suze standing there, watching him warily. "Susie," he said softly, almost afraid to move, in case she was just a crazy hallucination.

She stepped farther into the room, glancing around. Her eyes fell on the glass next to him. "Are you drunk?"

Paul smiled ironically. "I wish." He motioned at the glass. "Haven't been able to even try the stuff, yet." She didn't believe him, he could tell. Of course not. When had she had reason to believe _anything_ that came out of his mouth? He sighed. "Why are you here, Suze?" When she didn't answer right away, he said, "Are the cops waiting outside, ready to take me away the minute I try something?" He laughed harshly. "You can tell them they don't need to bother. I'll come out there in a minute on my own."

"The cops aren't here."

Paul raised his eyebrows at her. "No? Then why did you come here? To taunt me?" He waved a hand. "Go ahead."

Suze bit her lip. He waited, watching her. "I need to ask you something. When you… when I… when I was here," she finally got out, "did you and I…" She was pressing her hand to her stomach. Paul watched her as she struggled to get her question out. Finally it dawned on him.

"Suze," he said gently, "if you're pregnant, I didn't do it to you."

She stared at him. "Are you sure?"

Paul smiled grimly. "Trust me, I'm sure. If you trust nothing else I say, trust that." He shrugged. "If you don't believe me, you can always get a blood test after it's born."

She nodded absently, though she still looked skeptical. "Okay." That was all. Just "Okay." She turned to go.

"Wait, Suze." He saw her stiffen, and she turned back to look at him. Paul reached into the drawer built into the table next to his chair and pulled something out.

Suze's eyes widened when she saw what he was holding. "No."

Paul held the crystal out to her. "I don't want it anymore," he said, his hand shaking just from holding it. "I don't want to see it. I want to forget it exists."

She stared at his outstretched hand. "You think _I _want it? What would I do with it?"

"I don't care. Use it, destroy it, bury it. It doesn't matter to me. Do whatever you want to it."

She stood there for a long moment, not moving, just staring at it. "Please," he finally forced out.

"Fine." She finally took the crystal from him and turned to leave.

"Suze." She looked back at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. You'll never know how much."

* * *

I think that my favorite part about being with Jesse was the cuddling—honestly. Not that I didn't fully enjoy everything else—I'd be lying if I told you otherwise—but there was something entirely enjoyable about being held in his arms, and just laying there, sometimes talking, sometimes just enjoying being together. 

"Jesse?"

He kissed my hair. "Yes, querida?"

"I…umm… have something to tell you." I turned so I was looking up at him. "You have to promise you won't be mad or anything, okay?"

Jesse pushed a strand of hair out of my face. "I won't be angry."

I took a deep breath. I couldn't really be sure how he was going to react. "Jesse… I'm pregnant." At his startled look, I hurried to add, "It's yours, I know it is." Not quite true. I _hoped_ it was his. I wanted to believe Paul, but after everything, who _wouldn't_ be reluctant to trust what he said?

Jesse touched my belly, looking down at it for a long moment. Then he met my gaze. "It doesn't matter."

"What?" I stared at him stupidly.

He leaned forward and kissed me. "It doesn't matter. If he's mine or not. He's ours."

I smiled tremulously. "Or she."

"What?"

"You said 'he.' It could be a girl."

Jesse smiled, and kissed me again. "Or she."

* * *

A/N: I was afraid it was going to be short… :-D yeeey for it being… about as long as the rest of the chapters! 

Things that distracted me while writing this chapter: dinner, a snack when it turned out I hadn't had enough for dinner, my dad and stepmom buying plane tickets (:-P Toronto, here I come), Dante's _Inferno_ (pilfered from my friend), reading reviews from the lovely, wonderful, stupendous Pens in potatoes (who has made my review count go from 121 to… well, I'd give you the exact number, not all my reviews are currently showing up.) O.o can I hire you as my own personal reviewer? Lol. Please?


	15. Epilogue

A/N: Last chapter. O.o wow. :-P the first part's just… I don't know. A way to shut Joe up, finally.

Epilogue

**Present:**

"Good morning, Trish," Jesse said as he approached her desk. "How was your weekend?"

Trish smiled at him. "It was good. How was yours? And how's Suze doing?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "She is just fine. Complaining that she's getting fat, but otherwise she's doing well." Checking his watch to make sure he still had time to chat before his next appointment, he asked, "Joe been by yet?"

Trish shook her head. "Not yet." It was her turn to roll her eyes this time. "I'm sure he'll come by as soon as he has a few minutes. It _is_ Monday, after all."

Jesse smiled. "Of course." He tapped his fingers on her desk for a moment. "Trish, I have a favor to ask you…"

* * *

Joe was not ashamed of the way he ate.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he hid in his office during lunchtime, unwrapping his own personal heart-attack-waiting-to-happen—a double bacon cheeseburger and the largest size of onion rings he could get.

He wasn't hiding because he was afraid of Molly—the matronly nurse who had been hounding him lately about his diet. Even doctors had to have their guilty pleasures, didn't they?

As he was about to take a bite of his burger, he heard a knock on his office door. _"Shit._ One minute!" He yanked open the bottom drawer of his desk and shoved his lunch—greasy wrappers and all—into it, and shut it. "Come in!"

He sighed, relieved when he saw who it was. "Oh, thank God, it's just you."

Trish smiled. "Hiding food from Molly again, huh?"

"I'm not afraid of her," Joe said defensively. "Anyway, what's up?"

She didn't answer him. She just walked around his desk and pulled him up so their faces were level. And kissed him.

Joe sank back down in his chair when she let him go, staring dumbly at her. "What… what was that for?"

She grinned. "Bunsen burners."

Joe blinked at her as she turned and left his office. "B-Bun…?"

Jesse poked his head into the room. "So, are we even now?"

Joe just continued to stare off. "Yeah. Yeah, we're even."

* * *

A/N: lol I've been waiting to be able to get to that part…

* * *

**Future:**

_5 years later…_

"Daddy!" Jesse cracked an eye open to see his four year old daughter bouncing up and down beside the bed. "Get up! You promised you'd make me breakfast!"

Sitting up, Jesse rubbed his eyes tiredly. He glanced down at Susannah, who was, of course, still sound asleep. He smiled wryly. The only lasting effect on her from what Paul had done was that she was now a very heavy sleeper.

He turned back to his daughter, whose bouncing black curls reminded him so much of one of his sister's that there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was his. "Querida, let me get dressed, and I will make you breakfast, all right?"

Ten minutes later, he and Amelia were making their way downstairs—he and Susannah had finally bought their first house three years ago—to the kitchen.

Setting her down at the kitchen table, Jesse asked, "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!"

Jesse smiled as he went to prepare breakfast. How his daughter could manage to have so much energy this early, he would never understand.

About the time he finished the pancakes, Susannah walked into kitchen—well, it was more of a waddle at this point, but what could you expect when she was nine months pregnant?—and sat down at the table, muttering a sleepy hello.

"Good morning, querida," Jesse said, kissing her cheek. He placed a few pancakes on her plate—and then, of course, added a few more when she grumbled sleepily about never getting enough.

Sunday morning breakfast with his wife and daughter. Susannah grumbled about missing her morning coffee, Amelia talked animatedly throughout, seeming to be oblivious to her parents' lack of intelligent response—it was too early for that—and Jesse dutifully going back to make more pancakes when they both protested that they were still hungry.

If this wasn't heaven, Jesse couldn't imagine what was.

* * *

A/N:-P just sort of a random happy ending. O.o And is there a reason why on chapter 12 I had 14 reviews, and on Chapter 13, I only got 4? Hmm? Honestly.

I do believe this will be my last Mediator fanfic, as far as Jesse-Suze-Paul-whatever related fics are concerned (the possibility is always open of continuing The Mediator II. :-P maybe.) Feels kind of weird. I've been writing for this fandom for the past three years. Since there was barely any Mediator stories on Feels really weird.


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